A Mama Who Prayed

If you were here before Briggs' accident, you might recognize this bench as I shared it in my stories quite often. As Briggs napped above me, I'd kneel at this bench and pray, I'd plead for my children and marriage, for my lost siblings, for myself. I'd then open my Bible and read scripture until I'd hear a little babe stirring in the sheets. I'd rush to find a stopping place, close the pages of my Bible, and look up to see a little blonde headed boy with a teethy smile peeping over the edge of the bed at me. He woke so happily from his naps, and I rose so refreshed from my place of prayer and study.

It stings as I kneel at this bench now. My prayers are much more desperate, my cries are much deeper, and there's no one to greet me as I rise. I'm thankful however, despite my pain, that I have a Savior who loves me, a Father to hold me as I cry, a comforter to go with me as I leave this room without my son, a peace giver, a strength provider, and the fulfiller of all promises.

I have all I need to walk this journey gracefully and with hope.

And at the end of the day, when I am contemplating all my life's choices, I know there's a little boy in Heaven telling Jesus with an earnest heart, that he had a Mama who prayed, and prayed often. I know without a shadow of doubt, that Briggs knew exactly whose arms welcomed him into Heaven, because he knew exactly who Jesus was on this earth.